The Cauldron of Black: Assembly of the Fallen
Previous Chapter | Next Chapter The Cauldron of Black: Assembly of the Fallen Braeburn was never more thankful to step out of the darkness. He was the last one to exit the portal, reflexively taking in a greedy breath once he felt air onto his skin. Unlike the Quincy, who had been able to keep their balance when they had exited, he nearly stumbled face-first onto the ground. A yelp escaped him before he straightened himself - something that immediately caught the attention of Leliel and Zeruel. The latter was quick to give an amused smirk, folding his arms across his chest. "Leave it to the rookie to demonstrate how poor he is navigating your portals, Leliel." He taunted, though it was more out of humor than hostility. "Maybe he should come with crutches next time, hm?" Braeburn let out a growl, spinning his head to glare at Zeruel. "Well, excuse me if I had my arm chopped off and my chest cut open like a gutted pig!" He fired back, raising up the stump of his arm for emphasis. "For crying out loud, I spent most of that trip bleeding my heart out! The least you could do is be a little bit more worried about me bleeding to death or--" However, he stopped himself once he noticed one thing. He didn't see or feel blood spilling from his arm anymore, nor did he feel it seeping through his chest. He looked down at the gash, pressing his hand against the wound in order to inspect it. "Wait a minute... I'm not bleeding anymore." He muttered, his eyes widening in surprise as he looked at his mutilated arm again. "My wounds... they're sealed? How in the--?" "It's courtesy of a Gintō spell," Leliel interrupted him, gesturing toward the area they had stepped into. "Placed all around this camp. For a peaceful environment such as this one to exist, it is quite necessary." It was here that Braeburn took a look at his surroundings. What he saw was a massive assortment of tents and campfires within the border of what looked like an abandoned castle. It was quite populated with what he assumed were Quincies, most of them dressed in the standard white military garb of the Wandenreich. Their crests were different, what with a ying-yang symbol in place of the five-pointed cross associated with those who served under Yhwach. The ones Braeburn could see within his direct line of sight were laughing, chatting or making themselves comfortable by the fires. Despite its rather dreary setting, it held a rather easing atmosphere. His troubles were put in the back of his head, and he couldn't help but give a small smile. "I presume this was done by the work of sister Bardiel." Leliel continued to speak. "It is a spell that uses four Gintō as points. The reiatsu is released upon activation, mixing with reishi within the atmosphere in order to induce this sense of calm and euphoric feeling. It is not purely psychological, of course. As long as we are within its sphere of influence, it'll seal and slowly heal any injuries or wounds that we happen to sustain. It is mostly done for the sake of the hurt or weak, but even ones of better constitution can find our own appreciation for it." "Speak for yourself." Zeruel grumbled, rubbing a hand over the wound Kaze had so generously given him. "If you ask me, all Bardiel did was make this place more dull. At least without her "safe zone", we could feel like something's going to happen at any given minute. She's just making our soldiers soft..." "I'm sure that if his Highness allowed it, it will not hinder our soldiers as much as you believe." Leliel answered. "You musn't lose faith in our sister, Zeruel." Zeruel gave a snort, but relented. "If you insist. She is an Archangel, after all..." After giving him a nod, Leliel turned to the fourth Quincy who had arrived just in time to give them their opening. "I have to apologize for any possible inconvenience, Knight." He said softly, giving a light bow. "I know I had insisted upon following the mission earlier, but the situation and its residents insisted that I take part in the festivities." The individual she was referring to had neck-length, spikey white hair and was rather tall, standing about about six feet, supplemented by the size of his boots. He was draped in the attire of what could only be described as a Strike Force Commando outfit, black with several lighter shaded armor pads at crucial areas of his body, and it carried several ammunition/utility pouches at various spots. His face was concealed by a black metal plate that covered most of his head from the bridge of his nose on down to his neck, connecting with his shirt's collar, while his eyes were concealed by an expressionless visor that connected seamlessly to his face plate. His attention seemed to be focused primarily on Braeburn, but after Leliel addressed him, it shifted over to the latter. "You owe me a bullet." is all he said. His voice was blunt and slightly raspy, not helped by the mask which only gave his voice an almost cybernetic characteristic. To this, Leliel closed his eyes and gave a mirthful chuckle. "That is a debt I will make sure to pay in full. In the meantime, I believe your work is done here. You're free to see to your own assortment of troops if you wish, or make yourself comfortable. I can secure the objective from here." He turned towards Braeburn, the smile fading. "Shall we?" Braeburn found his mouth turning into a contained scowl, knowing that affirming his readiness would mean one step closer to seeing Arael's face once again. He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath, trying to keep himself calm before speaking. "Yeah. I think we've had enough time to ourselves. Let's get this over with. I'd rather not be walking around with this stump of an arm any longer than I have to." Giving a nod of acknowledgement, Leliel led the way for Zeruel and Braeburn on the path to Arael. As they walked, Braeburn found himself seeing more and more of what was within. In some tents, there were tables with medical supplies and patients respectively. At least one doctor was within each area, calmly and quickly tending to the injured. In other tents, it was as if he was looking at simple campers. There were those asleep in bags, those who were playing board games to pass the time and those who were telling stories to one another. In more space areas of the outside, there were large groupings going on that tended to their own respective activity. One was in a sermon-like meeting, singing a chant in foreign tone. Another was revolved around target practice, with an instructor teaching recruits how to use various weapons. It was like a melting pot of society. In front of one tent stood a man who whistled at the sight of the three. Bearing his long trench coat over black silken shirt and pants, the bespectacled man was unmistakable if only for his peculiarly angled nose and sharp winning smile. That and the violet eyes shimmering behind the dark lensed glasses resting over his nasal bridge. "Well if it isn't the McTavish kid that Kogun talked about. The Crimson Tornado? I didn't figure you to be the kind of person to wish death like the rest of these sods," Tome declared boldly, sporting a cheeky grin. It only refracted for an instant when his eyes looked at the other two Archangels, leaning forward to whisper while waving his hand dismissively, "no offense to you suicidal bunch, I just like living through my thrills." It was obvious that the "no offense" term was nowhere near the level of sincere. Braeburn's scowl more prominent as he glared at Tome, his teeth pressing together within his mouth. He cursed his condition, as the desire to lash out was urging him to draw his blade once again. But he knew that with an arm gone and the wound in his chest, he'd be destroyed in a potential fight. As prominent as the logic was in his head, the stressful situation he had gone through prior to this moment wasn't helping matters. The last thing he had wanted or expected was to be taunted about it, especially from someone that was supposed to be an ally. He started to open his mouth, ready to fire back what would've been a nasty comment of his own. However, he was beaten to it by Leliel. "Tome." The Quincy began, regarding Tome with a slightly stern stare. His hand reached over to place itself on Braeburn's shoulder, its squeeze enough to keep the Shinigami from carrying out his actions. "While we can understand your impatience for battle and the desire to see blood spilled, antagonizing the likes of your own allies will not get you to the goal any faster. Need I remind you that you are only here due to the good graces of Lord Arael?" His eyes narrowed slightly. "Unless your personal endgame is death absolute, it would be wise to not be the cause of in-fighting. Do I make myself clear?" If the words enough were not enough to emphasize the position of standing his ground, the subtle hint of venom and threat would. "You're too serious for your own good, what's-your-name? Serial? Something feminine? Doesn't matter," Tome waved it off as he stared unamused at Leliel's attempt to verbally subdue him. Pocketing his hands into his pants, he grinned like a shark at him and his two followers. The fact that he had gotten a rise out of Braeburn was pleasurable enough, but seeing a normally stoic man make the move first was even more entertaining. "I wouldn't call my words that insulting. I gave him a compliment. My men, the Crimson Knights, don't compliment people easily by giving them names to remember them by. I just find it odd that someone like him would be wrapped up with guys like you. I get why you all are fighting, Mister Areel has made that clear." Turning towards Braeburn, he narrowed all too serious eyes at him, visible above the dark opaqued lenses of his shades, "You...I don't get someone like you being roped into this. I'm normally a good read on people. What is your stake in this operation?" "None of your business." Braeburn said vehemently, ignoring the light scoff from Zeruel. "You don't hear me asking you why you've decided to change tune and work for Whitey Locks yourself. Speaking of which," He started walking again in the direction of the castle, with the two Quincy following him. "I've got a report to deliver, and then I've got some wounds to heal." "If you got regrets, leave them behind, McTavish," Tome whispered, looking over his shoulder as his words were far too quiet to reach the man or his cohorts' ears. Regardless, he felt compelled to speak them even as he watched his uneven steps, his retreating form. Almost growling his nose sniffed a few times before snorting disdainfully, "I can smell that woman's Reiatsu from your wounds. You're hiding a hurt inside of you, worse than the one burrowed in me. Getting second thoughts now will only get you killed..." ---- "...I have to say, Braeburn, that you got rather careless." Arael was sitting at the table he had been during the meeting with Tome and Mōshin, and from the looks of things, it appeared as if he had been working on a list of documents when Braeburn and the Quincy arrived. He had just finished listening to everything that the Soul had told him with interest, taking in every detail with only a few questions to encourage continued speaking. When everything was said and done, that was the first thing that had come from his mouth. "Challenging the Onmitsukidō Commander in open combat despite being surrounded by the enemy's numbers? Allowing yourself to fall into a trap like that? If my men weren't there to reinforce you, you surely would've been dead." "I wouldn't have done it if I didn't have Zeruel and Leliel to pull me out of the fire." Braeburn answered, folding his arms as best as he could across his chest. "Believe me, the first thing that transpired through my mind was running. But even if I did, I doubt that Kaze would've let me go too far." He narrowed his eyes and averted his gaze briefly to the side, muttering the last parts of his statement under his breath. "Psychopathic son of a bitch..." "And he says he only allowed you to join the D.C.O. to draw us out? That he knew about us from the very beginning?" Arael asked rhetorically, closing his eyes and chuckling softly. "Either that has to be the biggest bluff that I've heard, or Kaze was more resourceful than I first thought. While this may mean that I have to be more careful with my steps, it also means that I just may have found his weakness." "When do I kill him?" Braeburn asked, his voice cold and hardened. It caused Arael's eyes to widen slightly in surprise. "Kill him? I never expected you to ask something like that when dealing with one of your former comrades, especially considering he's your--" "He is not my comrade!" Braeburn hissed, clenching his lone fist. "He never was. Even when I was working alongside him, I hated him. He's a psychopath in every sense of the word. He sees people as nothing more than tools for him to use at his leisure, subjects for his brand of experimentation. It's one thing to understand what must be done, but it's another thing to gloat and brag about those actions as if you're on top of the world. Those who use their positions to exploit other people... those who use their status to look down on and condemn on a whim... they should be ripped right off their pedestals and thrown straight into the abyss." He unfolded his arms, holding his fist out in front of him. "He's one name of a list of people whose heads I plan on chopping off. When all is said and done, all of the heads I've collected will be lined up right on the doorstep of the Seireitei." His words made Arael's smile a bit wider. "Quite the ambitious one, aren't you?" He remarked, though not in a mocking or jeering tone. "I like that. But I have to say that you'd be most likely going up against a lot of enemies that could easily threaten your life." Braeburn scoffed. "My life was always threatened the moment I picked up my sword and charged into battle. Facing down the elites of the Soul Society isn't going to be that much of a difference." "How bold of you, Braeburn McTavish," An Archangel announced as she emerged from her place of the shadows. A calm almost pleasant look about her looked charming. Designated as Sachiel she was perhaps the one Archangel that appeared to be the least interest in combat as the others prided themselves. Deceivingly pacifistic in her actions, even Leliel seemed passive aggressive in comparison to her lackadaisical nature when it came to fighting. Her height was short, coming up to five foot two inches, but the air of her appearance was almost mystical. A white hooded cloak covered most of her slenderly built features, but what could be seen was the purple-grey complexion her skin retained. Pure white eyes glowed behind a silhouette of shadows that covered most of her face behind the veil of her hood. Her walk put her directly next to Braeburn's side, looking at him with haunting orbs that burrowed straight through him directly into his skull. "But can you back up such brave words after being dismembered and left to bleed on the battlefield? Leaving in such a state does not befit someone of your...importance, does it?" She asked coldly, almost disapproving that he came back at all the way he did. To her he seemed useless in a fight though she herself didn't cherish conflict. But if the goal was to be achieved why bother extracting him at all? It didn't make sense to her. Her presence drew the attention of both the Archangels and the defector, their eyes regarding her with slight surprise. Arael was seemingly indifferent to it, sliding his papers into a single pile while regarding her. "Sachiel..." Braeburn muttered, furrowing his eyebrows and grasping the forearm of his mutilated stump. Although his declaration helped him vent a little, Sachiel's challenge kept the frown on his face. However, he had managed to mellow out his tone a little, responding to her with a firm yet composed voice. "You sound as if it's uncommon for soldiers to leave the battlefield untouched every time they enter. Not exactly fitting for someone who's supposed to be part of the S.K.M.'s frontlines, wouldn't you agree? I'm sure that if not for that artificial heart and those machines within your body, I'm pretty sure you would be nothing but a shredded mass of flesh. Isn't that right?" While Zeruel snickered at this, Leliel decided to step in before things got a bit heated. "Now, now..." He insisted, clapping his hands together in order to get their attention. "Let us save the fighting for our enemies. The last thing any of us want is for our blades to pierce each other, when we're already so close to the fields of war." He turned his eyes to the Quincy girl, his tone positively conversational. "What brings you here, Sachiel?" Turning on her heel, Sachiel scoffed at Braeburn's challenging words. Her cloaked form gave the impression she hovered off the ground at all times instead of stepping. Despite the fact one could see her legs moving underneath her coverings, no footsteps were heard. It was an eerie mute movement that carried her across the ground a short distance before she answered. "I was merely...curious as to what use we have for our spy," She said with an amused curl of her lips, forming a wry smile that was unseen as her back was to the lot. Raising a white sleeved hand, her fingers swiveled in synchronization as if playing an instrument as she spoke, "I heard he wounded a Captain in a fierce battle, caught his supposed friends off guard but what was he before the might of the enraged Captain Commander? Nothing. If Zeruel can best the mighty lab experiment without any aid lent to him, how can he compare anything to our finest? It is a simple question that demands a simple answer. No need to take it as anything more than curiosity fueled by understandable doubt." Turning her head around to cast a single glowing eye at Braeburn, she smiled without being seen as she asked in a humored tone, "Tell me you plan to find a way to supplement your physical weakness, little spy. We have no need for weak men on the battlefield who can barely hold their own to a single Captain. If you were even half of the man Asumu Godai is, perhaps I would ridicule your results a bit less...maybe." "Oh, cute..." Braeburn mocked, giving her a confident and taunting smirk. "The Angel's talking tough, like she could beat the Captain-Commander with one hand tied behind her back. I'll admit, I might not be at the level of her. But I'm still loads stronger than the likes of you or any of the other Angels. If she was able to do this to me," He gestured to his chopped-off arm and wounded torso, giving a dark chuckle. "Then that should spell wonders as to what she would do to the likes of you. You wouldn't even have a chance to draw those powers of yours out to the surface before she crushed you into the dust. So if I were you, I'd be careful of who you place in the category of "trash". The one you label just may end up tearing that precious heart of yours out of its chest." "Just be thankful the truly competent members of our Order was there, less your rapier witted tongue be lying in the pool of your own blood," Sachiel snipped back, sighing with a roll of her eyes. Taking a silent stride beside him she cast an amused if not challenging glare at him as she passed him by. Waving behind her the words she spoke carried into the air as she left the room of men to carry out her own devices, "I'll look forward to see how you can fair in the coming operation, Braeburn McTavish. It'd be amusing, if nothing else, to see you flail around with less than a full set of limbs." "Arrogant bitch." Braeburn's smirk slowly faded to an annoyed scowl as Sachiel moved away, a slight glare fixated over the spot where she had left. Arael had always told him that the group of Quincy never minded his presence, despite being a Shinigami. But it seemed like Sachiel was the exception. Every chance she got, the girl seemed very intent on antagonizing him. Unlike Leliel, who seemed more submissive and humble, Sachiel's attitude of calm composure exuded arrogance. If they ever went to all-out battle with the Gotei 13, he quietly hoped that she would be one of the first casualties. Shaking the morbid thoughts out of his head, he turned his head to Arael. "Well, I suppose that's all there is to the report." He said dryly. "Now, is there any place where I can... you know..." He raised his stump of an arm to view. "Get this fixed?" Arael gave a soft chuckle. "Of course. You getting grievously injured in such a scenario, despite Sachiel's choice of words for it, was something I expected from the start. I informed Bardiel to make preparations accordingly." He directed his gaze from the Shinigami to something behind him, causing Braeburn to blink in slight confusion. "All right, he says he's ready! You can show him to the labs now!" "Great!" A female voice chirped from behind Braeburn. "Yah!" He abruptly spun around to face the source of the noise. Standing there with her palms clapped against each other was none other than Bardiel herself. In comparison to Sachiel, she was a much more refreshing sight. Her long, blonde hair and her bright blue eyes complimented the enthusiastic smile she held on her face. She also wore a rather casual attire composed of a black shirt, blue jean pants and white sneakers outlined in blue. Her pleased expression changed to one of surprise when she saw him jump, and she quickly held her hands out in front of her in a placating motion. "Oh! Sorry, I didn't meant to scare you like that. I wasn't trying to make myself hidden..." "Well, I'm scared to wonder what it'd be like if you were actually trying!" Braeburn grumbled, placing his hand against his chest. "Oh, don't worry about it." Bardiel waved off his complaint. "It's not like you have the weak constitution for a heart attack. Now, come on." She turned herself around, giving an inviting wave as she walked away. "I think we can both say walking around with that stump of an arm is just going to be little more than detrimental. As interesting it'd be to see you fight and kill with just that hand, we need you at your best just as the rest of the soldiers." "Of course..." Braeburn muttered under his breath, cradling his mutilated arm as he followed her. "Nothing but the best when it comes to Whitey Locks..." Just as they came to the door leading out to their destination, it already opened from the other side, and standing there was the man that they all simply knew as "The Winter Knight". Rather tall compared to the rest of the group, his attire and his gear painted him as a mercenary, in contrast to the more orderly and refined members of Arael's following. His masked visage stared down at Braeburn and Bardiel, his expression hidden behind a souless face plate and a blank visor over his eyes, but one might could assume that his face conveyed something of annoyance or indifference. He glared down at them for a few seconds more before stepping aside to let them both pass, though his visored gaze seemed locked on Braeburn for the duration of their leave. He earned his very own reactions to it. Bardiel, of course, was surprised by his appearance. Her eyes widened, and a contemplative frown came across her features. But unlike Braeburn, who was a bit more startled, she had maintained composure. Her stare back into his eyes was passive and almost innocent, as if she didn't register his glare. Of course, who would given that mask his face was hiding behind? He was at least nearly unreadable in terms of emotions. Braeburn was quick to get over himself, regarding the masked knight with furrowed eyebrows and a slight glare of his own. Although the visage was clearly intimidating, it didn't shake up the Shinigami one bit. His life had been threatened by much worse than stare-downs - something that had been demonstrated not too long before. In his nonverbal retalitation, he couldn't help but notice that the gaze was focused solely on him. Was it because of simple scrutiny, distrust due to the odd position he had taken? Or was it something else, something that concerned only the Knight? He kept his stare until the moment he passed by. After walking away from the man, he allowed himself to speak to his Quincy companion. "A barrel full of laughs, ain't he?" He said sarcastically, earning a soft giggle from Bardiel. "I know what you mean. He's always been like that when it comes to us. We don't allow it to get to us, all things considering. He may not be a social butterfly, but he's good at his job. I'm sure you saw that firsthand." There was no doubt about that. A single bullet had done so much damage to the enemy faction - something that not even the reinforcements had done. It had even momentarily taken Hana out of commission - a fact that demonstrated both the Knight's skill and his own personal failure. But he didn't dare show it to Bardiel, not wanting his weakness to come out in such a manner. "He's also going to be coming with us on your next assignment." Bardiel's next choice of words caused Braeburn's eyes to narrow. "My next assignment?" "You were doing some work in Hell, right?" Bardiel asked rhetorically, turning herself around to face him and carelessly walking backwards. "A bit of scouting and practice of that Red Sun black magic. Arael had given you time to carve the most appropriate path from entry to exit while still throwing the very movements within the dimension in disarray. He wants to see the fruits of your labor for himself on his own little pilgrimage. After I'm done patching you up and you've rested up a bit, then would be the time we can head out." "Who's gonna be with me?" Braeburn questioned further. "There will be the Knight, Leliel, the Commander himself," Bardiel's smile widened as she finished her sentence, briefly spreading her arms out to gesture to herself. "And yours truly. It'll be my first trip down in the bowels of Hell, and I've always wanted to see just what it was like down there. So, I'm expecting a good show, tour guide." She gave a wink. "Don't disappoint me, eh?" The rather inviting attitude earned her Braeburn's chuckle. "Only if you can give me a good replacement for my arm. God knows I need it..." "Not joining the ranks of the disabled? Here I thought I'd earn a few chuckles seeing a handi-capped man in battle. But then again, seeing you fight will be all the more embarassment you need," Sachiel spoke out, her body coming out of the shadows of the tent once more, this time in the midst of becoming visible from light refraction. Her silent steps walking across the air allowed her eerie person to approach but not reject an amused smile to stretch across her visible visage. "you think you're going to get the chance of showing others firsthand what Damnation's namesake is like without me? Think again, Braeburn McTavish." Turning her head, she cordially nodded to Bardiel while passing a momentary glance towards the Winter Knight's direction. Clearing her throat, she disguised her sudden anxiousness around the lattermost man's proximity by asking Bardiel in a polite tone, "That is, of course, if I'm not going to be a problem by attending your scouting operation?" Once again, Sachiel's presence was a surprise. Braeburn turned his head to look over at her, the small grin he had manifested in the face of Bardiel fading away quickly. A frown dominated his countenance once more as he listened to her biting words. But before he could retaliate, the latter of her speech stopped him short. After all of that antagonistic talk earlier, she wanted to travel with the likes of him? He couldn't help but raise a brow, even as she directed the rest of her words to her fellow female Quincy. "Hmmm...." Bardiel hummed thoughtfully to herself, stopping her walk in order to regard Sachiel more carefully. She folded her arms across her chest, furrowing her eyebrows. "Well, while I'm tempted to say to take it up with the Commander, he was rather loose when dealing with the number of people to be brought on this little journey. And as a field commander and your superior officer, I at least have some say over it..." She leaned over, peering at Sachiel for a moment more in silence before briefly closing her eyes and nodding herself. "All right, then. We just might need your hand in this, considering your powers in particular..." "Really?!" Sachiel squealed out in a surprisingly girlish tone. When she realized what came from her mouth, she cleared her throat and graveled out in her normal dispassionate tone. "thank you, Commander Bardiel. I humbly accept your unconditional acceptance of my participation in this operation. I won't let you down." Turning on her heel, she took a single step, staring at Braeburn with hollow golden whites that made up her eyes, "Something I'll be expecting from you, Braeburn McTavish, is competence. See that you're able to keep up." On the note of her final words, Sachiel disappeared in a flicker of light, gone without a trace or a signature of Reiatsu. The only thing that indicated where she was last could be seen in the ground where a pentacle cross shaped ring of white flames danced over the earth. The soil was glassed around the burning embers, almost as if it turned to ice in the wake of white-hot energy being utilized. Anyone who knew her she'd return at her whim or when summoned but could go anywhere she pleased without being detected or followed. The White Raven, Sachiel, was the most elusive Archangel to be sure in their ranks. "...well, well." Braeburn muttered, looking at the spot from where she had disappeared. The outburst of a response at Bardiel's answer was certainly a change of pace from the regular attitude he had expected from her. Then again, the majority of these Quincy were strange and almost alien in behavior. They never quite followed the social pathways of the common people - something that the Aethian Soul Reaper was greatly fascinated by. "Perhaps I misjudged her more than I thought." He turned his eye to Bardiel, giving a nod. "I'm ready. Let's go." Giving a nod of her own, Bardiel led Braeburn away... Trek of the Damned It was a few days later. Braeburn had spent that time recovering from his injuries, with the most time-consuming being the replacement of his arm. Instead of regenerating it, he had opted for a more traditional route - replacement. A cybernetic prosthetic took the place of his right arm, complete with several enhancements that had been explained by Bardiel along the way. In addition to the change of limbs, he had also gotten a change of outfit. The D.C.O. attire he had donned was discarded and replaced by an almost occult wardrobe. He wore a black long-sleeved top, pants with narrowed cuffs that fit into boots, gloves that hid the cybernetic nature of his arm, a sash wrapped around the waist and a gray, lengthy variant of a hooded vest that reached down to his shins. It was a perfect reflection of what he was leaving behind. Now, he was standing in front of an open area with his designated crew behind him. From under his hood, he drew in a deep breath and closed his eyes as to mentally prepare himself. Then, he turned around and began an explanation. "All right. As you may or may not have known, I've been doing some scouting in Hell during my cooperation with Gotei 13 forces in order to find the safest path to our objective. While I've been trying my best to keep tabs, I can't guarantee if anything's changed over time. Rest assured that this will be the way of least resistance and keep a good majority of Hell's defenses off our backs once the actual invasion starts." Braeburn's team wouldn't be the only ones checking in on this briefing. Several meters away, the Winter Knight was approaching, several of his own, modernized troopers following in his tracks. They had weapons in their arms, specialized Reishi carbines that coursed with glowing blue lines of energy. Their approach was calm at first, but as some of the troopers acquired a better glimpse of Braeburn, murmers and whispers started to spread amongst them. "The hell is this?" One of the more brash members of the squad said aloud as they approached. "Who's bright idea was it to take orders from a damn samurai?" "I'll bet he hasn't stepped foot out of parent's hut!" another one laughed, earning a few chuckles from the other squad members. "How'd you lose your arm there, kid?" one of the others started to jest, checking around to make sure his comrades were listening. "Did'ja lose it arm-wrestling a fish?-" "Quiet." Their chuckles and insults were halted immediately once the Winter Knight spoke his one word. Upon doing so, they stood back at attention, not even attempting to vocally apologize for their insubordination. While this spoke leagues of their respect for their commanding officer, it also demonstrated their own distaste for Shinigami, having the boldness to speak out against Braeburn's supposed leadership without the consent of their commander. "We're being briefed." The Winter Knight finished, lowering his weapon and turning his masked attention to Braeburn, listening to what he had to say. "Don't stop on their account, Braeburn McTavish," Sachiel spoke in her usual, calm and grated tone. Her form casually appeared while shedding layers of light that were refracted to hide her approach. Her glowing eyes fixed upon him patiently as her body weightlessly hovered above the earth silently as ever. She didn't bother casting a glance at the men under The Knight's charge. They didn't interest her as much as the man himself. Hearing one word uttered from him was enough to give her goosebumps and a brief flush of warm across her oddly hued skin. No one would see it but she smiled at how quickly he brought order to the rabble he called his subordinates. "Please continue," She urged, crossing her arms underneath her cloak, the ruffles of her white linen barely noticeable, "you said you've been to Hell before but it could have changed? What? Does the world of the Damned have a mind of its own, is that what you're saying?" "In a matter of speaking." Braeburn answered, his eyes casting a glare briefly over at the mouthy subordinates of the Knight. "The will of Hell is always shifting the environment. Some things change slowly and gradually, while other changes are more obvious and quick. It serves as a sort of defense system in order to keep any "insolent" surveillance at bay. But in general, the makeup of Hell's will can be best described as a watchdog, with the leash held by the very Queen of Hell herself." Within the group, Bardiel gave a nod of fascinated acknowledgement. "Nice..." She commented, folding her arms across her chest while holding one hand against her chin. "To think that a dimension would hold sentience? This really will be our first trip down into the underworks of the spiritual realms, will it?" A wide grin grew on her face, and she gave a few enthusiastic nods. "Oh, yeah. This is gonna be one trek for the books." "If this pathway were to change..." Leliel questioned, tilting his head to the slightly as he looked at Braeburn. "Just how drastic will these changes be?" Braeburn gave a light shrug of the shoulders. "Like I said, some changes are slow and some are fast. After checking the path many, many times, I can safely guess that any changes made will be minor. A moved brick here, a shift of decor there... direction will still remain constant, so don't worry about me leading you into the dark. I've got it handled." He turned his attention to the silently observing Arael. "Still, we should keep ourselves as quiet as possible. A Hankami's omnipotence is strong, and the slightest twitch out of place can make her aware that we're sneaking in a place we shouldn't be." "Good. Open warfare, at least at this stage, wasn't what I had in mind... especially considering the nature of the Daitenshi" Arael said, pulling himself from the group in order to approach a spot beside Braeburn. He turned himself around once he reached that spot, taking on a composed yet commanding tone of voice. "I want you all to stick together and maintain a low profile. Remember this is a scouting mission and nothing less. Engagement is strictly forbidden unless absolutely necessary." He gestured to Braeburn. "Naturally, Braeburn will head the pack, supported by our strongest and more combat-ready units. Those suited to long-range or support roles will bring up the rear. Are there any questions?" The way that Braeburn described this place unnerved Sachiel a little. She had been to Hueco Mundo where it was infested with Hollows of all kinds, some hiding in the sands or underneath the sands themselves. Wandering the World of the Living she saw many aspects of the human world that could be as different on one continent as a square mile could be to another. The Spiritual realms of souls such as the Shinigami spread farther than the mind could comprehend, with many lands withholding souls from all corners of the world of the material fabric. Never had she thought she'd walk through the underworld itself. She only heard about it through reports or read it through historical text. It was the worst place to be, which was hard for her to imagine as she had seen Hueco Mundo. Only those without hope or morals would live in such a place. Colossal titans with incredible strength, hounds blind but with incredible sense of smell for Reishi, empowered damned now serving the Queen of Hell herself. And then there were the inmates themselves, Togabito also known as Sinners. They were dangerous when motivated but docile when their wills were broken. Demons often lurked within the shadows of Hell and, although it was rumored, they were also imprisoned in special sections of the netherworld. One could only assume that's where the Archdemon, Ultharon the Almighty, was kept. When Braeburn asked if there was questions, she shook her head and raised her voice so he could hear her, "Is there a possibility we will run into a Demon? From what I've heard, they practically come and go within Hell as if it is theirs despite the Hell Queen's grip. Is that true or did I misread that from the texts?" At this, Arael raised an eyebrow to Braeburn questioningly. Braeburn himself didn't bat an eyelash, folding his hands behind his back and leveling his gaze to Sachiel. "It's possible. Demons usually hang out where the Daitenshi and Devils don't, and if we're seeing a less amount of Hell's patrol, then we're probably going to see at least a few Demons. But if we do, the majority of them are usually passive and will only attack if we happen to be stepping on their territory. Where we'll be going doesn't cross into such guidelines, so if we happen to encounter one, chances are that it'll more often than not leave us alone. But if we happen to encounter a hostile one, the same rules of engagement apply.." "Something else you need to consider." The Winter Knight spoke again, taking a couple of steps forward, his attention and statements focused on both Braeburn and Arael. "Assuming that we even reach our destination, just what do you two have planned for when we succeed in breaking him out?" he continued, lowering his rifle even further towards the ground. "I hope you know just what that thing is capable of doing even at his weakest. Who is to say that we aren't going to be in his line of sight when he's unshackled?" Sachiel hesitated in correcting the Knight that this was only a scouting mission and not the actual fully fledged operation. But what he said made sense. She didn't know more about the Archdemon other than historical accounts of his two unsuccessful attempts of destroying the reality that was the Material and Spiritual realms. Only thanks to the late Captain Commander did his second attempt prove futile. With him out of the way, who's to say they could even reign in this monstrocity? Looking to Arael for confirmation, she hoped her faith in him wasn't misplaced. If he didn't seem like the kind of man who could keep Ultharon in line was he just another conniving if not charismatic zealot? For the first time since this was brought up, doubts were starting to swirl in her mind. Biting her tongue, she kept what little visible features of herself be seen as to not arouse suspicion of her shock or apprehension thanks to the Knight's own dubious trust in the Archdemon's power. It was a set of words that seemed more patronizing and condescending than anything else. The Knight's statements caused both Leliel and Bardiel to subtly bristle, with their recognizing it as an attack of their leader's competence more than anything else. Braeburn had to resist the urge to do the same. But it wasn't out of loyalty to Arael, of course. It was the fact that the mercenary had lumped him in the same category with the white-haired Quincy in terms of being a part of the planning. With the sheer level of insanity put into this plan, it was the equivalent of belittling him as nothing more than a mindless psycho. He may have had his mental resolve shaken up quite a bit, but he was far from crazy. Putting that fact up to the surface, however, would only serve to make him look weak in the face of his colleagues. The last thing he wanted to do was give Sachiel an excuse to berate him. While he remained silent, Arael would voice his opinion on the Knight's right away. He narrowed his eyes slightly, turning his head to look at the soldier. "Is that defeatism I hear within your voice, Winter Knight?" He questioned in a seemingly inquiring tone. "I understand if there is nervousness and anxiety within some people due to the nature of this little mission. But to hear you infer the possibility that we might not make it so openly? To hear you talk as if I have no clue what is waiting for us? That I am walking myself and my men into a trap?" He folded his hands behind his back, turning himself completely to face the Knight. His stare held a hawk-like quality to it as it bore against the masked man's face. It was several seconds - something that seemed like an eternity to some - before he gave a small frown and tilted his head to the side in the most subtle manner. "Well, since you are so generous to deliver such good advice, I believe I shall return the favor." To emphasize his statements, he took a hand out in front of him and used two fingers to point towards the Knight. "Shut up and do your job. I have been planning this longer than you have been under my wing. I fully understand any and all possible events and outcomes that can transpire. This has been something going on for years - far too long to allow for any glaring mistakes. I know what I am doing here." His gaze briefly turned into a chilling glare as he spoke out his last words. "Do not question my ability again." The knight was not so easily silenced. This time, he and his troops raised their weapons back up into their hands, and the masked man took another step forward as an open state of defiance to Arael's words. "Charles McTavish said the same thing when he planned to let Ultharon out." he stated in his deep, somewhat raspy masked voice. "I'm not sure if you recall what happened to him, but it didn't end well." He went on, his gaze briefly shifting to Braeburn in lieu of mentioning the latter's own bloodline. "Add to that, Hollows become stronger when they are fully exposed to Hell, Visoreds too. When Ultharon gets out, he's going to be far more powerful than he ever was before. And here you expect me to believe that you have every scenario planned and thought out like a damn story?" Behind the glass that made up his visor, there was a piercing stare that aimed itself directly at Arael's own eyes, one that was more than just a simple glare of the eyes, as it carried a special sort of trait that only the Winter Knight could muster. "We'll play our part for now, but my eyes miss nothing. If there is a single slip up on this operation, we're all going to pay for it." As Sachiel's knuckles crackled, her blood rising at an unnatural decibel. Most of the time she didn't care what her comrades squabbled about. But this was The Winter Knight, an infamous Quincy who joined their ranks for the sake of increasing their chances of success. Arael was a charismatic and great strategist, someone she highly respected. When her eyes met both of their visages she was unsure whether she should place herself in between the two or not. Rebuking the other could earn the ire of one if not both. Instead, she settled for clearing her throat, settling for changing topic at any given moment. Switching her gaze to Braeburn, she asked out loud in a slightly louder tone than necessary, "Are we going to stand here all day, McTavish, or are we going to Hell? Does it take a week to open portal or are you taking purposefully long?" It was here that all attention was turned to Braeburn - even Leliel and Bardiel, who were just about ready to fight as soon as they saw the Winter Knight and his men raise their weapons threateningly. In turn, the Shinigami was giving an amused smirk, his arms folded across his chest as he watched the spat take place. Once Sachiel directed her words to him, he chuckled lightly and shrugged nonchalantly. "Hey, I was just waiting for the girls to finish their squabble." He answered casually, ignoring the slight glare Arael directed towards him. "But if you insist..." He turned to face away from the group, his gaze turning serious quickly. He slapped his palms against each other, holding them up at mouth level while closing his eyes. A constant hum, low and monotone, escaped from his closed mouth. At first, it seemed like nothign special. But the abnormal nature of this action would be made clear the moment that hum did not stop, growing gradually louder and louder with each second that passed. As those seconds passed, the environment around the group began to slowly shift. The sky was changing into black, and everything around them began to get slowly consumed in darkness. It was an event that caused Bardiel's eyes to widen in surprise, and she swung her gaze every which way to take in the disappearing setting. "What in the--?" She was cut off when Braeburn began what seemed like a prayer. "Oh, great Izanami of Death. Oh, great Izanagi of Rebirth. Hear my call." His body started to transform, his physical make-up being replaced by a glowing red, mist-like energy. Although he was still humanoid in terms of shape, it was all too clear that everything else was not. Even Arael was looking on with intrigue as the Shinigami continued his prayer. "To the barren wastelands of existence, my feet will carry me. Through the fire and brimstone, my feet will carry me. Into a place where only those truly lost will go, my feet will carry me. From our descent to our rise shall you keep us safe and sound." At this, he raised a hand to each of the group... and they would be hit with the most psychological experiences ever to befall a mortal body. They would feel the very fabric of their essence dissipate, although they would still be aware of themselves. There would be no pain, only the most extreme feeling of numbness. It was as if they had become one with the air itself. They would still be able to look at Braeburn as he parted his hands, lowering them before moving them up as if straining to lift up something. These movements would cause the darkness around them to gain a vibrant red color, reacting to his "pulling" like a live entity. They would cease when he stopped, only to flare up again when he continued. But it would all stop when he got his hands to a certain point, and from there, he thrust those hands out to his sides. At that moment, they had regained their physical forms, and they were standing in a new environment. It was Hell's own version of a sewer. Albeit made entirely out of blackened rock and lava, it held the outline of some sort of underground dumping facility. On the walls were several large vent protrusions, with their holes open and expunging several pieces of "garbage". The "garbage" in question would be the bodies of the damned, which fell against downward slopes with an opening between slope and the wall. This opening would lead downward to an unseeable location of Hell - presumably down to another level. The most disturbing thing was that these bodies weren't "dead" - something proven when some were shot out too far and landed directly on the pathway. Those few had gotten up from their prostrate forms and stumbled around, mumbling unintelligibly to themselves until they ended up falling down the slopes with obliviousness. Braeburn would turn to the group and give a sarcastic smile, spreading his arms out to gesture to the setting. "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Hell's underworks." Previous Chapter | Next Chapter Category:Fanfiction Category:Roleplay